His For The Taking

by Channing, Harris

  She raised her chin imperiously. "How badly do you wish to know where she is?" Constance asked, her brow lifted, her mouth pinched into a condescending line. "Because if you think I'll ever tell you, you sir are wasting your time."

  ***

  Julianna held tight to her needle and tried to focus on the intricate embroidery pattern. But her head ached and she had no ambition to finish.

  Grandmother sat at the far side of the parlor, her head lowered as she read the mornings correspondence, her small frail body resting atop the lavender cushion of the window seat.

  "Anything interesting?" Julianna asked, securing the needle to the fabric.

  Grandmother looked up from her letters. "No, not really. Just news from Stuart about the goings on at Oak Park."

  "Oh, Stuart, how is he faring with Lady Whitcomb as his mistress?" she asked, wishing not to know about Constance or her mother. But had there been word of Jonathan?

  Oh how she longed to take up a pen and tell him all her news. He would have male insight into Bennett Nesbitt. God knew she needed guidance where that man was concerned. He was wild and free spirited, so full of life and energy. But, she reminded herself soberly, Jonathan wasn't her friend anymore, was he?

  A small smile warmed Grandmother's face. "Well, he says that Miss Constance is quite demanding and very much ready to cry if tea is even five minutes late."

  "Well, Cook is never tardy," Julianna defended, setting her sewing stand to the side and rising from the settee.

  My how her legs ached from yesterday's whirlwind tour of London on the arm of Lord Nesbitt. Yet she had a new appreciation for the city and she had to admit, he was ever so much fun. Bennett's laughter and passion was contagious. Not to mention the fact that he was drawn to her. There was no worry as to whether or not he found her attractive. She could tell by the appreciation in his eyes and the compliments on his tongue.

  She touched her lips, recalling his kiss that night in the garden. If he tried to kiss her again, how would she feel? Would she be so ready to push him away?

  Heat inched its way into her cheeks and her stomach flip flopped. No. She didn't think she would.

  "Yes, that's very true. I hope we have our dear staff when we return. She is driving Nellie to distraction."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, all I can think is the child must be bored. All she seems to do is have Nell comb her hair, help her change her clothes and force her to listen to her complaints."

  Julianna drew her lower lip between her teeth. Did she dare ask if there was more news? News of Denbigh Hall. News of Jonathan? Her anxiety over asking was not nearly strong enough to stop her. "And are there any other items of interest in the letter?"

  Grandmother folded the paper and held it tight in her hands before setting a chilly gaze upon her granddaughter. "What sort of items of interest?"

  "You know what I'm asking," she replied, her fingers curling nervously in the fabric of her gown.

  "Yes I do." Grandmother stood and lifted her hand, offering Julianna the letter. "There is. Are you certain you want to know?"

  Her throat seemed suddenly tight. Did she want to know for certain? Judging by the expression on Grandmother's face, she already knew.

  "Has he been calling on Miss Whitcomb?"

  Grandmother lowered her hand, her mouth dipped into a frown. "Yes."

  Tears sprang uncontrollably from her eyes and she sank back into the settee, burying her face in her hands. Her heart hurt, actually ached, each beat painful in her chest.

  Grandmother shuffled forward and settled next to her, rubbing her back in slow, gentle strokes.

  "I-I don’t know why, but I thought he would mourn my absence," Julianna said through sobs. "He is truly lost to me. Our kiss meant nothing to him, just as he professed."

  "I'm sorry child." Grandmother pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I carried the same hopes as you."

  Julianna looked at her grandmother through tear soaked eyes. "What does that mean?"

  "It means I had anticipated that passion is stronger toward absent lovers. That without you there, he would realize just what you meant to him."

  Taking in a deep breath, Julianna forced down her pain. As far as she was concerned, it was over. She would never again think of Jonathan as anything but an acquaintance. For there were other men in the world and surely she could find love with one of them. If not love, then something far more dependable and far less painful.

  "Grandmother," Julianna said with a sniffle. "I think I would like to go to Lady Nesbitt's milliner. I was there yesterday with Bennett. And in the window was a stunning turban."

  "A turban?" Grandmother asked, looking up at her as if she had lost her senses.

  "Yes, it's charming. Green with silver and gold bits of thread. I do believe it would look smashing on you at tomorrow evening's ball."

  Grandmother stood, slipping her arm through Julianna's. "Yes, I do believe a bit of shopping is in order. Music may well soothe the savage breast, but shopping eases a broken heart."

  ***

  Jonathan slammed the front door of Denbigh Hall. "Blast that damned half wit," he grumbled stalking down the hall and toward the steps that would take him to his room. But bloody hell, what would he do once he got there? He could pace there or he could pace here. He could pace in the parlor or in his study.

  He let out a low, deep, feral growl that echoed against the marble floors of the entry way. "Where the bloody hell has she gone?" he asked of his reflection in a large gilded mirror.

  God but he looked a fright. His brown eyes almost black with rage. His dark blond curls wild with tangles from repeated contact with agitated fingers. And the stubble on his chin was thick, for he had neglected his razor since he learned she had gone.

  "Damnation!" he shouted. "Has she truly left the country?" The idea of a Frenchman, a Spaniard or an Italian making love to her had his stomach roiling. Her beautiful body should curl next to his at night. What a fool he was. What a god damned fool.

  Julianna had left and taken his sanity with her. How could he have not felt this passion for her when he was by her side? How could he have been such an idiot? Love her hell. It was more than love he felt. It was obsession.

  Again he paced. When he found her, he'd throw himself at her feet. Kiss those lips. Make her his in every way he possibly could. He'd make love to her and he'd make her his wife. They'd never be apart again. Never.

  He continued to pace, his hands behind his back. "Where could she be? Where?"

  "Sir?"

  The soft voice of his housekeeper had him turning on her like a wild beast. "What is it, Jesse?" he shouted.

  She shrank back and dipping her knee, held out a small missive. "This was delivered after you left for Oak Park."

  "What is it?"

  "I don't know, sir." She took two steps back and lowered her chin. "It came from a messenger. He said he rode like the devil from London."

  "London? It's probably from my solicitor."

  "No, sir. The man said it was from Lady Chesterfield."

  His heart lightened and for the first time in a week he felt the smallest glimmer of hope.

  Chapter Five

  Julianna's cheeks warmed at the smile Bennett bestowed upon her. His eyes sparkled as he stared down at her, the lights from the chandeliers, the sound of the music, the feel of his arms around her, all making her feel more alive than she had in ages.

  My but his attentions were addicting and the way he maneuvered her around the crowded dance floor had her heart soaring.

  Who needed Jonathan, anyway? But she admitted being in Bennett’s arms lacked the enjoyment she felt when Jonathan whisked around the floor. The strength in Denbigh’s embrace, the perfection of his movements, the arousal at the feel of his body pressed to her were all lacking when Bennett held her. But Bennett was here and his interest was obvious. And she needed that more than the spark she felt when Jonathan danced with her. This was enough, wasn't it?

&n
bsp; "You’re a million miles away, Miss Julianna," Bennett said, his voice pulling her out of her melancholy.

  "I’m sorry."

  As the musician's ended the waltz, he spun her to a halt, the skirts of her rose colored gown swirling around her ankles. With a laugh, she threw her head back. "You are quite the partner," she said, her hand flying to her chest in an attempt to catch her breath.

  "And you, Miss Julianna are by far the most beautiful maiden in all of England." She felt a pleasant warmth rise in her cheeks and an uncontrollable smile lifted the corners of her mouth. It was the perfect thing to say. Very unJonathan like.

  "I thank you, sir." She pulled free of his embrace and dipped into a curtsy. "Now, do you suppose we could get something to drink and see Grandmother? I'm curious as to how she and her new turban are faring."

  "Indeed," Bennett replied. "But meet me in the garden first. I shall bring you refreshment there and we can enjoy a bit of the cool night air." He tugged on his collar, his forehead shiny with perspiration. "I am in agony, my dear."

  "Well, no one is forcing you to dance every dance with me. A few other gentlemen have tried to ask."

  "I know," he said, the smile slipping from his lips, his green eyes taking on a seriousness she had never seen him display. "But I don't wish to share."

  "People will talk."

  "Let them."

  Her hand remained on her heart, the fierceness of its beat no longer caused by physical exertion. "Sir…"

  He bowed, his dark hair shimmering in the low candlelight. "Meet me in the garden?"

  "All right," she agreed hesitantly, for the massive ballroom had grown warm from the throngs of guests that flooded the Manchester's beautiful mansion. But that warmth was nothing in comparison to the heat that now seemed to encompass her entire body.

  What does he truly want? She wondered. Was he going to attempt to kiss her again? This time would she push him away? She gnawed on her lower lip. Her reputation would be ruined if they were seen. Dear Lord she needed some advice.

  He nodded as he departed. She watched him go, yet doubted the wisdom of her decision to be alone with him.

  She determined to see Grandmother before she left. She’d know exactly how to handle the situation. She always knew best.

  On tiptoes, her gaze flitted across the pastel sea of beautiful ladies dressed in silks and satins and equally beautiful gentlemen in fine black suits.

  Spying her beloved grandmother in the corner, a glass of champagne dangled from her black gloved fingertips and a wide smile creased her face. She spoke with the Duke and Duchess of Manchester. Grandmother was in her element. Did she truly want to interrupt and chase the Duke and Duchess away with her silly questions? After all, she was a grown woman. She could go out into the garden and drink champagne if she wanted to. What harm was there in that?

  ***

  There she was, sitting on an ornate bench, the moonlight playing in the small pearls that adorned her rich, russet hair. Her skin, porcelain, her beautiful rounded breasts pressing against the bodice of a lacy, pale gown. His Julianna, but ten feet away.

  Still, how did he approach her? Did he march up to her and tell her of his love? Or did he simply pretend their meeting was an accident and ask her to dance? Better still, grab her and make a run for Gretna Green.

  Jonathan slipped into the shadow of a massive boxwood, he took a deep breath, readying himself for whatever route he chose to take. All he knew for certain was that he had to see her. To be near her. To know if she still shared any bit of his feelings.

  At the sound of her sweet laughter, he craned his neck and to his dismay, found that she was no longer alone. Jealousy pinched his gut into a painful knot.

  A tall, slender, dandy looking fellow stood at her side, handing her a glass of champagne. "Damn you Bennett Nesbitt."

  From his vantage point, Jonathan could see and hear all the couple said to one another. And he felt suddenly uncomfortable. He should take his leave. Give them their privacy. Walk away…but how could he? For Nesbitt was obviously in love. The look in his eyes mirrored the feeling that now slammed against his abdomen, making him feel nauseated.

  "Julianna, I realize we have known one another a short time, but you can't have been blind to my intentions."

  Her eyes grew wide as they often did when caught off guard. "Bennett, I know you are fond of me. That is obvious by the attention you've offered me since my arrival in London…"

  "Please, let me finish." Bennett lifted his glass to his lips and emptied the contents. "I am more than fond of you, Julianna. You make me feel happy and alive. You have entered my life and made me want things I've never considered important before."

  "I don't understand." She stood, her hand coming to rest on her abdomen.

  "You make me want to settle down."

  "Please Bennett, let's go inside." She looked over her shoulder toward the house. "I'd like to make sure my grandmother is well."

  "Julianna, don't you like me?"

  Jonathan rolled his eyes heavenward. The man sounded as if he were going to cry.

  She lowered her chin. "Of course I like you. You've made me laugh when I've felt like crying."

  He set his glass down on the bench and took her hand into his. "Then why are you running away?"

  "I'm not…"

  "Please." He kissed her knuckles. "I want to marry you. I want to live everyday of my life making you laugh."

  Jonathan gritted his teeth. Oh how he longed to slam his fist into the man. How dare he touch her in such an intimate fashion.

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. "I-I'm not sure what to say."

  "Say yes Bennett. I'd be pleased to be your wife."

  Pain shot through Jonathan's heart as he watched. Bennett had her full attention, his goddess held the man's hand. Looked into his eyes.

  He turned away. What right did he have to intrude on her happiness? He had his opportunity to have her, to make her his and yet like a fool, he squandered the chance.

  The dull ache of heartbreak had him longing for a drink. Swallowing his bitter agony he walked to the far entrance of the Manchester Estate. He'd toast the bride to be, kiss her on the cheek and let her go.

  But with a chuckle he knew better. He’d not stand by and watch helplessly as she married someone else. Hell, he’d grab her and kiss in front of the entire ballroom if needs be. By God she’d know his true feelings before the night ended.

  ***

  Julianna didn't wish to face Bennett or Jane or even Grandmother. Too much was on her mind. She had told a man who vowed to love her till death do them part that she needed time to consider his proposal.

  The look on his face stabbed at her heart, for she never wanted to hurt anyone. And she especially didn't want to be responsible for crushing such a spirit as Bennett's.

  Pushing her way through the crowd of partygoers that hovered by the open garden doors, she longed for the freedom of the country. Wanted nothing more than to step out of her front door and be able to breathe the fresh, clean air. Oh how glorious it would be to walk unhindered down country lanes rather than fighting her way through busy streets and poverty.

  Tears burned her eyes. She wanted to go home. To sleep in her bed at Oak Park. To walk to town with Jonathan…

  Reaching a refreshment table she stopped. Did she truly wish to return to that life? A life so filled with longing that it pained? Did she want to go back and sit beside Jonathan on the settee, his muscular body so close to her that her core throbbed with unspent passion? Did she? Or would she rather stand beside a man who looked upon her with such love that she could almost feel its silky kiss?

  "You're so very easy to love, Julianna. Won't you let me?" Bennett had said, his countenance filled with such honest feeling that it frightened her.

  Perhaps some day she could feel the love she held sacred to Jonathan for someone else. Perhaps Bennett could help her forget or at the very least move forward.

  Her hand shook as she picked up a flute o
f champagne. Putting the glass to her lips, she swallowed a mouthful, the bubbles tickling her nose. Setting the back of her hand to her nose, she sneezed.

  "Bless you, Julianna."

  She didn't turn to face the man who blessed her. She didn't dare, for without looking, she knew who stood by her side. She could feel his presence as if it touched her very soul. Dear God, what was he doing here?

  A chill ran across her flesh and she drew in a deep breath. His subtle, yet familiar scent tantalized her senses. If she turned to look at him, what would she do? Would she slip back into the comfortable old pattern or tear his eyes out for hurting her the way he had?

  "I said bless you."

  She closed her eyes and readied herself to look into that familiar face. A face she longed to see in her unborn children.

  She turned and attempted to regard him with the most impassive expression she could considering the rapid rate of her heartbeat. "Lord Denbigh, whatever are you doing in London?"

  "I had business to attend to."

  He was every bit as handsome as she dreamt every night since leaving Oak Park. Dark blonde curls, those glorious brown orbs flecked with amber and gold. Why couldn't he love her? Why? And why was it so difficult to stop loving him?

  "I see," she said, setting the champagne glass down. "And was it successful?"

  His gaze never wavered, the intensity in his expression quite unnerving. Quite unexpected. Quite out of his character.

  "No. An abysmal failure."

  "Pity. For knowing you as I do, you'll no doubt be bitterly angry."

  "Yes, but only because I realized the problem too late." He finally looked away, his beautiful mouth dipping into a frown. "If I had only seen what was right in front of me all along."

  She squeezed her hand into a fist. What was he doing to her? Trying to coax her back into his velvet snare? To return her to a friendship that stifled? The memory of his face that last day in the garden. The anger, the loathing, the ease with which broke her heart. "That's too bad for you," she remarked, her pride surging upward. "I have had the most wonderful time in London."